East of Eden
by jennajuicebox
Summary: Post Mockingjay. Katniss climbs out of her depression slowly, who will still be there when it's all said and done.
1. Chapter 1

And just like that I am staring at a sink covered in blood. My hands are trembling and my throat is tight, my breathing is rapid. I stare at my wrist, covered in crimson for a long desperate moment before frantically searching for a towel and wrapping it around my wrist. I take a shaky breath and slowly sink to the floor, taking in the morning light as it streams in through the window, it catches the dust as it dances slowly to the floor. I press the towel tighter, feeling the slickness against my skin under the rough fabric.

That's when I hear him, The shovel scraping against the hard dirt. My eyebrows furrow together curiously, but I make no effort to move. I listen, cocking my head to the side, I try to figure out the noise. I sigh finally, curiosity getting the best of me. I pulled to towel back, the bleeding has slowed. I stand and turn the water on, watching it wash the red from the stark white porcelain for a moment before dipping my wrist under the cool water. I pull a bandage from the cupboard under the sink and wrap myself up sloppily.

Years of being among the trees has given me a hunters grace and my feet do not give me away as I make my way down the stairs, sticking to the shadows as I pad slowly to the door. I crack the door gently, the noise grows in my ears and my eyes squint against the bright sun. I suddenly realize I'm not sure how long it is since I have been outside. I take a tentative step, slipping from the safety of my home. Everything is louder out here, more vivid. I am desperate to return to the muted light of the house. The scraping noise has stopped, been replaced by a softer noise. I slip down the front steps and my bare feet touch the grass and I wince at the cool blades resting between my toes, as I round the corner I stop short. I have to fight the urge to turn on my heel and run, Instead I slip back to the shadows against the house, silently pressing my back against the wall. He has yet to notice me, his azure eyes fixed on the plants he has just set in the ground, blonde eyelashes catching in the sunlight.

My brain is racing, my breathing shallow and quick, suddenly I am too aware of what I must look like, I want to undo my braid and run my fingers through it, but I do not dare move. His eyes look older, like some of the blue has been drained out. His plain white tee shirt and soft black pants are covered in dirt. He smiles to himself and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at the plants. Suddenly I am seething with a deep resentment, how dare he come here and smile like that, like he isn't a ghost of his old self. I take a large step out of the darkness, he catches the movement as I open my mouth to speak. His smile fades quickly, and we both freeze.

I'm not sure how long we stay that way, time hasn't had much meaning for me since I've come back to district 12. He meets my eyes timidly, finally he makes the first move. His hand reaches out for me, and pauses slightly, I can't tear my eyes away from his, so blue, so empty. My knees threaten to give way, he sees the slight turn of my feet. His eyes grow wide when he sees the white bandage on my wrist, the red slowly seeping through it. I hide it timidly behind me. I roll up onto the balls of my feet. He takes a step toward me.

"Katniss, please." he breathes, barely a noise at all, that's all it takes. I run. I am sobbing by the time I am at the top of the stairs, wiping my face with the palm of my hand. I choke back the tears and I fling my bedroom door open and reach for the safety of my closet. I crawl inside suddenly I am so tired, I can barely hold my eyelids open. I wrap my legs in a sweater and lay my head down against the floor. I listen for his heavy footfalls downstairs, maybe he will say my name again, but he doesn't. Nothing but the quiet I am accustomed to.

I'm not sure how long I have been asleep, but the light under my closet door is dim. I slowly climb out from beneath the sweater and stretch out my sore, stiff muscles. I stare down at my bandaged wrist, hoping it had been a bad dream. I sigh when I discover its still there, the bandage crusted with dried blood. Shame fills me slowly, spreading like a stain. Sae is downstairs I can hear her. She smiles at me as I walk slowly toward the kitchen, she hands me a bowl of stew. I say nothing, as usual. She cuts me a slice of bread and hands it to me, her eyebrows raised slightly. If she noticed the bandage she says nothing. I stare stoically at it, I know he made it, it's written all over her face.

"How long has he been back?" I ask, clearing my throat, I realize that I am not sure how long its been since I've spoken.

"He arrived on the train yesterday," she looks at me a long time, "Eat." she orders after a moment. I take a small spoonful, and shove it in my mouth. Suddenly, I am starving. I quickly begin dipping my bread in the stew, letting the broth drip down my chin. She smiles and pats my shoulder as she leaves. After my food is gone I stay sitting at the table until darkness envelops me. Buttercup rubs against my leg after awhile. I look down at him, I think of kicking him for a moment, angered at the intrusion. Instead I lean down and scratch behind his ear. He purrs for an instant then darts away.

I am alone again, my fingers tracing patterns in the wood table. Suddenly I am reminded that this is the same table we laid Gale on when he was whipped. I feel sick to my stomach, pushing my chair back violently I stand clumsily. I walk slowly up the stairs and pause in the doorway of my room. My room smells stale, the bed sheets rumpled, the door to the bathroom is closed. I cross the room and lay down, pressing my face against my cool pillow.

_Just like that, its as if she has never left. She sits across from me at the table. Her smile is just as bright, hair just as blonde. She wears a soft dress that flows around her and rests at her knees. I drink her in like water. I reach for her and she sighs. Tears fall down my face freely, I have ached to see her. I dare to speak, my voice coming out tight and hoarse._

_ "Prim." she smiles wider, giving a small giggle. My fingers can almost touch her, I am desperate for her warmth. "Prim," I begin again, my voice a little more steady. "Where have you been?"_

_ "Don't you remember?" she gently rebukes, her smile slowly fading. I would do anything to bring it back. I shake my head though I know what she is about to say, I say it to myself everyday. "you killed me." she states softly. My hand wraps around my mouth as I choke back a sob._

_ My hand is just wrapping around her shoulder as she begins to dissolve slowly into ash and blood. I am crawling across the table to hold her as she fades. My clothes covered in the soot that used to be my baby sister. I run my fingers through her hair as she screams, holding her as ash and blood pour from her eye sockets, her mouth, her nose. All too soon her screams are gone. Its just me on the floor, next to an overturned chair, rocking back and forth. The ash from my sister threatening to choke me._

I awaken in a pool of sweat, my throat hoarse from screaming. My eyes dart wildly around the room as I shove my knees up to my chest. My hands tremble as I try to catch my breath. The air is hot and muggy, I slowly get up and force the window open, the cool night air feeling good on my sticky skin. I stare out at the stars for a moment, wondering why they dare show themselves anymore. How could they after she was taken from me? Why would they even bother?

I look out at the houses around me, they loom in the night, stark and cold, Even Haymitch's house seems to empty. Then, I steal a glance at his house. His bedroom light is on, I am tempted to cross the lawn. Look into his eyes and say the things I have practicing in my head. Somehow, they seem stupid now. All of the "I've missed you's." and "I love you's." they won't fix any of this, nothing will heal us, nothing will make this better.

My bedside clock reads 4:30, the old Katniss would be already out the door and halfway to the meadow. I turn my light on and stare down at my wrist. The bandage is stained copper. I gently try to pry it from my skin but its stuck into the wound. I sigh, frustrated and pad gently to the bathroom. I turn on the tepid tap water and sneak a glance into the mirror for the first time since I returned from the capitol.

What a sight I was. My hair was matted deeply and wild around my face. My bones jutted sharply against my skin, giving my eyes a deep set appearance. The shapeless shift dress hung off my bony shoulders limply. Soft pink scars lick their way up my neck. My eyes held a hollowness I had never seen before. The most surprising thing was how much of her I saw in me. Before, I didn't think we looked much a like, her hair was soft and flaxen, a slight wave curling it around her shoulders. Her skin pale as moonlight, freckles spraying her nose. I see her now though, and it catches my breath in my throat. There she is, beneath my olive skin. The way my cheekbones curve slightly, the shape of my lips. She is in the way my face is rounded.

I turn off the tap water before I change my mind, I turn to the tub and begin drawing a lukewarm bath. Pouring sweet smelling oil into the clean water. I strip off my dress that is covered in sweat and grime, I kick it away from me. I don't dare a look to the mirror now, not wanting to risk seeing the pink snaking scars across my stomach and back.

I lower myself into the cool water slowly, wincing as it covers my still tender scars. It takes me nearly an hour to pull the tangles from my hair and scrub the flakes of skin from my collarbone. I step out of the water and find a towel in the cupboard. I stand in front of my closet, staring longingly at the different dresses and soft materials that have Cinna's touch all over them. I finger a dark green dress made of soft silk. Before slowly thumbing through the hangers until I find a plain navy tank top and soft black pants. I lace my boots up my legs, and find my fathers jacket where I left it, tucked away under my bed. I bring it to my nose, sucking in the smell of the woods before sliding the familiar leather over my shoulders. I braid my hair down my back and stare at my door for a long moment.

"Okay," I breathe to myself "Now what?"

By the time I have talked myself downstairs Greasy Sae is making eggs and biscuits, her granddaughter plays in the living room with a rag doll. She happily chatters to herself, I can't help but crack a small half smile at her as she looks up at me with a wide grin.

"Morning dear." Greasy Sae says, her back to me. As she turns holding a skillet, she can't help but pause slightly, taking in the sight of me, bathed and brushed. She smiles faintly, "Look at you," she whispers softly.

"It seemed like a good day for a walk." I answer weakly.

I step out into the morning and am stifled by the summer heat. It seems like my hair is sticky before I reach my lawn. I make my way across to the side of the house where I had seen Peeta planting. When was it? Just yesterday? Somehow it seems like so much longer. I finger a leaf softly and it hits me like a truck. _Primroses. Prim._ I struggle to keep my breathing normal. I look around careful, the victors village is quiet, no one is out on the paths on this hot day. I turn back to the plants and pull the leaf off. I press it to my lips and smile. When I do it feels like a betrayal, to myself, to her.

I tuck the leaf into my pocket and slip out of the village, not looking at his house, I am not ready to see him just yet. People openly stare at me as I walk through the town. They stop whatever they are doing and straighten themselves to watch me take in the destruction around me in awe, as ash catches in my dark, straight braid. A group of children nearly barrel into me as they run through a patch of grass near where the Hob once stood. They stop short and stare at me, I stare back unabashed. Some look like me, the clear Seam look, One girl has hair bright as fire, and emerald green eyes. They look somewhat afraid, but there is something else too, I can't put a finger on it. As I turn to leave I hear a faint whisper. "That was the Mockingjay."

I don't venture into the woods, but I make my way to the fence, staring out at the freshly churned earth. I start to feel the choking sobs rise in my throat and turn to leave. I see people staring. I wonder what they could possibly be thinking. I shake my head as I chase the thought away. I begin to run, until my throat is flaming with thirst and my lungs ache.

I've made it back to my house before noon, and I see him sitting on his porch. He is scribbling in a journal. He doesn't look up at me, I stand in my yard awkwardly, wondering when he will notice me. After a moment of debating back and forth with myself I trudge over to him, feeling angry that if he had noticed me he hadn't thought it was important enough to speak. I know it is unfair that I am angry, but most everything makes me angry these day.

I stop at the foot of his stairs, he still is writing furtively in his journal. I place my hands on my hips and almost move to leave. _What am I doing here?_ I bite my lip, and step forward.

"Hello," I start quietly, my eyes looking everywhere but him. Finally, my eyes rest on his face. He is wearing an expression of wonder, staring at me like I might not be real. My heart flutters as he drops his pen and leather bound book, standing and stepping gruffly off his porch. His fingers reach out to touch my face, I take a small step back, he brings his hand back to his side.

"Its you," he says, "real or not real?"

"Real." I whisper and he smiles as if he knew the answer all along.

"You look," He stops short, as if searching for the right word, "beautiful." I snort somewhat disdainfully.

"Yeah, these scars are really captivating." I mumble sarcastically. He shakes his head sadly for a moment. Then looks up at me from beneath his eyelashes.

"What are you doing?" I ask, nodding toward the journal he left sitting on his chair.

"Writing down my thoughts, it's part of my therapy." we stand there awkwardly for a few moments, taking in the sight of each other. His eyes trail down my arm, looking for the bandage I had replaced on my cut. "What happened to your wrist?" he asks like he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" I bite my voice rising. I don't like the way he is looking at me. It makes me feel open and exposed, like a small child. Anger is swelling inside of me. He deflates, running his hand through his hair he lets out a long, drawn out sigh.

"Of course it does Katniss." His eyes are on the ground now, his fingers still tangled in his hair he begins to tug on it gently, visibly frustrated with me.

I can't think of the words to tell him the truth so I lie. "I cut it on a knife doing the dishes." I sputter out weakly. He doesn't believe me, I can see it in the way his eyes grow sharp. He looks like he wants to yell at me, but he looks straight into me, his eyes staring sharply into mine. I can't help but think he must be looking into my very soul. I wonder what he will find there, if there is anything left in there at all.

"Keep telling yourself that." he snaps, moving to sit back down, he begins to write in his journal again, pressing the pen so hard against the paper I fear it will snap. He has dismissed me, I look around for a moment, wondering if I should try to speak again. I open my mouth, thinking about an apology, I am not sure how to form the words, so I begin to walk to my house. I count the steps to keep from crying. I shut the door with more force than is necessary. I lock it tight and slowly turn sliding down the cold wood. Tears pouring silently down my face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, just like to play with them**.

_**Playlist: Skinny love by Bon Iver**_

_**Welcome home, son by Radical Face**_

_**Chasing Dragons by Gemma Hayes**_

I stay in bed for the rest of the day. My blankets covering my head as I try to shut out all of the thoughts in my brain. I don't feel the heat or the cold. I don't sleep, I just lie there trying to even my breathing. I feel broken and lost, but mostly I am angry at Peeta. How dare he come back and just think that everything would be fine? I mean, what did he expect?

Every once and a while a tear escapes my eye, I don't move to touch it, I just let it roll down to my chin. After what could have been minutes or hours I hear a faint rustling downstairs. Greasy Sae must be back to cook. I stand slowly, I am still in my clothes, right down to my boots. I make my way downstairs, not eager for the company, I am surprised to hear hushed whispers over the sound of something crackling in a pan.

"I thought maybe she felt better today, I guess not." Greasy Sae whispers.

"Well, I am sure seeing the boy stirred her up quite a bit, I know it did him." Haymitch responds. I slip down the stairs unnoticed. Haymitch is rifling through my cabinets and Greasy Sae cooks bacon on a skillet. I stand in the shadows, unmoving, I could remain this way for hours and they wouldn't notice me. One of the benefits of living among the trees.

"He says she's been hurting herself." Greasy Sae starts, her gray eyes downcast. Haymitch snorts indignantly. He looks in the cabinet beneath the sink.

"Jackpot," he mutters flatly, pulling out a bottle of white liquor. He pulls the cork and takes a long swig, shaking his head slightly at the taste before smiling darkly. "The girl is practically catatonic," he replies turning to look at Sae. "How much more damage could she do?"

I take a shaky step, he sees me and stops short. "Sweetheart," he smiles "You look like shit." I raise my fingers to my face self consciously for a moment before my eyebrows knit together angrily.

"I could say the same about you." I bite before coming to sit at the table. He stumbles to sit next to me. I can smell the liquor radiating from him, mixing with the smell of his body and unwashed clothes. We sit for a long minute, not speaking. Finally angry curiosity gets the best of me. "What makes him think he could just come back here and talk to me like that?" I sputter, fuming. Tears threaten to spill over, down my face, I bite my cheek so hard I taste blood. Haymitch stares out in the distance for a moment, his eyes unseeing.

"Think about it Sweetheart," He replies, his voice flat. "where else is he going to go." He turns to face me. "For once, why don't you try being nice to that boy, he's lost just as much as you." I stare down at the table, refusing to look up at him.

There is so much I want to say in that moment. _I know. _And _He reminds me of her. _Won't change the way I acted and probably will act again. So as I stand I look at him wearily. "Go sleep it off, Haymitch." I mutter before climbing up the stairs tiredly.

The next morning I decide to try the outside again. I sit in my doorway, pressed against the doorframe. I whittle a piece of wood, trying not to think of him and his eyelashes that are impossibly long. Yet, I find myself looking for him, waiting for him to round the corner from his porch.

Eventually he does, the sunlight catching in his hair. His eyes are fixed to the ground. He lifts them timidly as he passes my house. My breathing quickens as he raises his hand to offer a wave. I wave back silently. He stops, it looks as if he is warring with whether or not to come over and speak to me or not. After a second he walks across my yard and stops on the bottom step of my porch.

"I'm sorry Katniss." he says after a moment. "For the way I spoke to you yesterday." I swallow my throat sore.

I stare at him for a long time, studying the lines on his face, the way his hair rustled in the wind. He was long overdue for a haircut. His shoulders were still broad, and his chest was still muscular. I bring my eyes back to his face and force myself to look into his eyes. Still the same dark cobalt, same shape, more hollow. I don't speak and he stands there waiting, shifting his weight from his good foot to his bad foot. I just stare, trying to remember everything about him, hold onto it like I won't ever see him again.

"Kat?" he tries again clearing his throat. "I thought maybe if you weren't busy tonight, maybe I could come over? I baked some bread this morning, cheesebuns, your favorite." I play with a hangnail on my thumb. He lets out another frustrated sigh. "Are you ever going to speak to me again?" he snaps, his voice icy and cold. After a few heartbeats he lets out a huff and turns to walk away, muttering to himself quietly.

"You could come over tonight if you want!" I rush the words out before he could stalk to far away, suddenly panicked about how much distance was growing between us. He stops and turns to look at me, shading his eyes from the sun.

"Do you really mean it?" he asks, his lips slightly curling upward. I nod once, swallowing my panic down. He turns on his heels and walks toward town. I watch him grow small and slowly disappear from view.

The rest of the morning I wander around my house aimless, wringing my hands, not sure what to do. Finally I sit on the couch, and stare at the wall until my eyes grow heavy. It's now noon and the sun is high in the cloudless blue sky. I lay down and feel a familiar dread creep through my veins. Sleep usually ends in nightmares and is nothing I look forward to, it is however, inevitable. I allow my eyes to shut letting sleep yank me down in an embrace that is not unlike drowning.

_I smell the smoke before I see it. It stings my eyes and lungs. I search around me and find no familiar faces. There is nothing except desolation. Suddenly the ground gives way beneath me and I stumble back to avoid falling into the cavern that has appeared in the middle of the street. Then he is there, so far away, yet so close. A peacekeeper holds him tightly dragging him up a stoop toward a door._

_"__Gale!" I scream, I know what is going to happen, what always happens. I yank an arrow from my back and pull the string of my bow back taut in one fluid motion. I search for a clean shot, my eyes squinting. He says nothing this time, just stares at me with wide steel gray eyes. I give him a look of apology as his brain puts it together._

_"__Katniss No!" Is all he gets out before my arrow is buried in his chest. His voice is different however. I rush toward him and sink to my knees when I reach the stoop. He isn't Gale anymore. I touch his face, resting my hand in his soft bronze hair._

_"__Finnick." I sob, leaning my forehead against his chest. I can't help hoping his green eyes would pop open at the sound of my voice and he would look like he did on his wedding day, whole and happy._

_"__Katniss." a voice says from behind me. Prim, I turn to look at her. Her face is distorted, angry. "Katniss wake up!" she shouts._

"Katniss, please wake up." his voice is shaky, his eyes worried as I let out a tearful sob. "Katniss? Don't worry it was just a nightmare, it's okay." I clamp my arms around his neck. He rubs soft circles into my back.

I stay that way for a long time, listening to his heart fluttering beneath his clothes. I have heard it a thousand times over the past two years, it still never ceases to amaze me, how steady it was.

"I'm sorry." I mutter finally, wiping the tears from my face. He smiles a little sadly.

"No need to be sorry Katniss," he breathes out. "I get them too."

He slowly stands and walks to the kitchen, pulling various items out of the cupboards and fridge. Every once and while he steals a glance at me while he cooks. I suddenly feel very self conscious, I cross my arms in front of my chest and cross my knees under the table. If he notices the motion he doesn't say anything.

We eat in silence, somewhat awkwardly. Neither one of us sure what to say or do. Are spoons are scraping the bottom of our bowls when I finally clear my throat to speak.

"Thank you for dinner." truth is, I barely tasted it. "It was lamb stew, right?"

"Well, technically it was squirrel stew." he fidgets nervously, sitting up slightly straighter in his chair. "Not much call for lamb here."

"Right." I sputter, after a beat of silence I murmur. "How long have I been back in 12?"

He smiles, his eyes not meeting mine. "Six weeks and two days." I nod, my birthday had come and gone, funny that I didn't notice. I count in my head the weeks, it must be mid June.

"What do you plan to do now?" I am feeling a bit braver now with my questions. If he is offended he hides it well.

"Not too sure, I've been thinking about opening my families bakery again, but..." he trails off his voice barely a whisper.

"That'd be nice." I encourage weakly. Truth is, I am not sure what to say. My tongue seems perpetually stuck in my cheek. Katniss Everdeen has never been good with words. I focus on listening to him breathe, the gentle rhythm calms me as I feel panic rising in my throat, for no good reason, really.

Then it happens, I am not prepared for it in the least. Not prepared for Peeta's eyes to go blank and his muscles to tighten. I am not prepared to see his face contort and his jaw to tighten unnaturally. His breathing is shallow and quick. He jerks upright, his chair sliding out from underneath him and falling with a crash to the floor. I stand and back away from the table against the wall slowly, as if he is snake in the grass. His eyes are fixed to the floor, staring unseeing at some imaginary enemy in the hardwood. When he looks up at me I feel the fear rising in my throat. All of that hatred, anger and fear in boring into me. I can't look away.

"Mutt." he spits, all of the venom in his voice washes over me. I slowly slide down the wall, tears silently pouring down my face. The table is flipped in one fluid motion. I had forgotten how strong he was. The noise is deafening and I cover my ears with my hands to silence it. I rock back and forth rhythmically and count in my head. One, two, three, four. "Filthy mutt!" he screams louder this time. He is right in front of me in a moment, hands grasping my shoulders tightly. I let out a small whimper, more out of fear than pain.

"Peeta, Peeta please, come back. Peeta come back!" I sob, grabbing each side of his face in my palms. "Peeta baby, come back to me." I whisper. After a long second he does, his pupils slowly return to normal. His hands loosen. He stares at my face a long moment before he leans back to sit from his crouched position in front of me. I wipe my face with the backs of my hands quietly, choking back sobs. We are silent for what feels like hours.

"I'm so sorry." his voice cracks, his fingers reach out to touch the bruises blossoming on my shoulders. I involuntarily cringe away from his grasp. He chokes back a sob. "Katniss, I hurt you." his face contorts with pain.

"I've had worse." I say flatly managing a small, closed lipped smile. We are silent for a long time. He rests his head between his hands. "Peeta," I manage a soft whisper. "Peeta, look at me." small tears have worked their way down his face, making his skin blotchy and red.

"Peeta," I start, but my words fade, I can't think of anything to say to erase the look of pain from the creases of his face.

"Katniss," he mumbles, "How are we suppose to do this?" his voice is full of desperation and hurt. "How are we suppose to go on living?" I have nothing, I'm not sure of the answer myself. So I crawl forward on my hands and knees until I am sitting next to him. I timidly reach for his hand and grasp it tight. My head finds the crook between his shoulder and neck. I breathe in his warmth and try to remember the old, not so broken Peeta. He touches the end of my braid, letting it fall through his fingers. He turns so his nose is resting on the top of my head and he takes in a long deep breath. I can't help but think how different we use to be. How alike we are now, how we are each trying to hold each other at arms length while also needing each other to be close. His breathing is unsteady, he leans into me, his forehead resting against mine. I can see it in his eyes, the way he leans forward. I swallow hard and begin to lean away. He shuts his eyes, if he is frustrated with me for denying his kiss he doesn't let me know. Instead. He smiles.

"I've missed you Kat." he manages, looking at our hands intertwined tightly.

"I've missed you too, Peeta." I whisper. My voice trembling slightly. "I've missed you so much." he touches the bandage on my wrist softly.

"It's been such a long day, can I stay here and hold your hand for a while?" he asks, not looking me in the eye. "Please?" he adds, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah,"I say as I hold his hand tighter. When I smile, it's a genuine smile, the first since Prim died. "I'd like that."


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Thank you guys for for the nice reviews!

Play list:

First day of my life – Bright eyes

Coconut Skins- Damien Rice

My Boy builds coffins – Florence and the machine

If the Hudson overflows – Goldspot

_I am fighting for air, my lungs cursing and spitting. My feet search for hold against the slick rocks at the bottom of the lake but they find no purchase. My hands flail uselessly against the frigid water. If I could just push off the ground, I would be back in the warm sunshine, sucking in lungfuls of the sweet summer air. I could be back home in an hour, sitting on the porch with Buttercup and Haymitch, watching the sun sink into the mountaintops. I feel myself tiring and dread fills my blood stream, its only a matter of seconds now, and I will be swallowed by water. I can only reach up helplessly and stare as I sink. Watching the Safety of the sun and air and sky from beneath._

_I am drowning, no use fighting anymore. My muscles are sore and I am so tired. I could close my eyes so easily and think of Prim. Forget the suffering in my lungs, the weariness of my bones. 'just shut your eyes' a voice says from within me. I could focus on her and the shape of her fingernails. I could remember what it was like to see her smile, a dimple forming in her cheek. What did the curve of her neck look like? Did I ever really look at it? I could just live in her memory and forget about the hurt of fighting, forget my heavy eyelids. However, I miss the warmth of the sun. I dare to risk one last glance._

_There he is, standing among the moss and sunshine and dirt. He's reaching out to me, shouting what I think might be my name. His voice is distant but clear. I need it, but not like the warmth of the sun. I need it in an entirely different way, I need it like summer breeze. My lungs ache for the life he offers. However, It has been too long. I can taste his name on my tongue, but its too late. My limbs are too heavy. I fall into the dark._

_Before oblivion, I swear, he looks straight into me and smiles, his teeth are sharp and pointed as daggers. His blue eyes have shifted to the color of a raven's wing._

I awake with struggling breath. My whole body is rigid and stiff. My pillow is drenched in tears. I'm slick with sweat, my bed sheets soaked through. I kick off my blankets tiredly and flip flop in bed for a few minutes before resting my feet on the cool hardwood floor. I feel the heat of the night in my parched throat and struggle to swallow. I wince in pain. My stomach somersaults pathetically. I let out a small whimper and try to stand. My world tilts and crooks to the side violently. My head throbs as it hits the floor.

I let out another small whine, as I push myself up onto my forearms. I see stars in my eyes as I struggle up onto my knees. With every move my muscles scream in protest. I stare at my open bathroom door with longing. I won't make it. I can't make it. _Give up. _I think with another small whimper. _Please._ My body begs with everything it has. I set my sights on the bathroom with a dark resolve. I inch myself forward on my hands and knees slowly. My elbows threaten to give way, my arms shaking violently. Half way to the bathroom I lose my dinner. It burns my nose and the bile is bitter against my tongue.

I keep moving, not bothering to stop each time I throw up. It runs down my shirt and chin. I can't stop shaking and shivering. After what feels like hours, I reach my bathroom door. I am so relieved I almost cry, tears forming beneath my eyes. I lean against the bathtub, exhausted, breathing labored. I turn on the cold shower and climb in limb by limb, forgetting my clothes, letting my head rest against the lip of the tub. I shut my eyes tight, praying the world would stop spinning. I throw up again and let it run down the drain.

I am sure I am dying. I wonder if it feels like falling asleep. I allow all of the people I loved to enter my mind. I give them my goodbye, one at a time. Rue, Cinna, Finnick, Boggs, My mother, Gale, Prim, Peeta. Even Haymitch has a place there. I cough and sputter, each one makes my head throb. I am so tired. I shut my eyes for a moment. The world is blissfully quiet.

I gasp awake, the world is just coming to life. Birds chirp cheerful in the tree by my window. The sun catches in a cobweb at the corner of my room. My room is a soft butter yellow and warm. A beautiful picture of the silence I live in. The shower still beats on me icy cold. I lift myself up to shut off the stream. My body groans in protest. I fall back against the tub weakly, letting my head slam against the tiles. Suddenly I am very scared. I listen for any noise from below. I listened for Peeta calling my name from the doorway. Or Greasy Sae putting a kettle of tea on the stove. I listened for Haymitch rifling through my cabinets. Nothing. A heartbeat, three heartbeats, nothing.

"Hello." I call down feeblely, my voice barely rising above a whisper, though I had tried to shout. "Peeta?" I question if he was ever here at all. I am sure he was just a figment, a ghost, not real. Peeta wouldn't let me die alone. Not real.

"Peeta." I try again, though I know he isn't here. The water is freezing, my skin is hot. I shut my eyes tight. I decide to talk to him, though he isn't real. "Peeta," I whisper with a small smile. "I miss my mother."

_I sit on the porch, the summer heat enveloping me. The sky is pregnant with dark violet clouds. I am wrapped in a bed sheet, rocking in a chair. My feet barely touch the floor. I shut my eyes tight as the first droplets of rain hit the hot earth. Steam rises as dusk settles over the district. A crack of lightning shatters the peacefulness. A few moments later thunder bellows out a war cry. I let my hair fall around my shoulders as I lean my head back and count in my head._

_Sunday is my favorite day of the week, my father is mine today. I can hear him through the open door. His voice lilts gently as he cleans game at the table. Prim plays with his shoes, untying his laces and giggling when he reaches to retie them. My mother stands at the sink and stares out across the yard, watching as the children who played in the neighbors yard darted toward the safety of their own homes. Lost in my fathers song. We are far from peaceful, but we are ours. I can't imagine anything else._

_My mother catches my eye and smiles. She walks through the house, gravitating closer to my father and touching his shoulder as she passed through. His gray eyes smiled at her gently. She rests her thin frame against the doorframe, watching me intently with her blue eyes._

_"__Katniss,darling."_

_"__Hmmmm." I hum dreamily._

_She stares at me wistfully. As if she has something she wants to say to me. Maybe she wants to encase this moment in her memory forever, lock it tightly in that tomb, with the other dead._

_"__Come in for dinner dear." she says so softly I fear her voice might break. She turns away from me, she always turns away, all I want is her smile. My father caught her before she can disappear into the living room. He catches her wrist in his rough hand, twirling her along with the song he is singing. His other hand rests on the small of her back. They sway softly in the in-between light of sunset. She rests her head on his chest, he presses a kiss to her starlight hair. _

_Her face is turned away from me, I can still tell she is smiling. Her smiles were always saved for him._

Someone is shouting my name, but I can't reach them. I try to move my fingers, but I can't so I try to listen to the voice. He is so scared, all I want is to reassure him. I try to bribe my voice back into my throat, all I can manage is a feeble croak. I can hear him sigh with relief as he shuts the water off.

I open my eyes and his blue eyes meet mine. My bed clothes are sopping, and they drip down the front of his shirt making the dark black shirt darker. I can't speak, but I have the presence of mind to touch his cheek softly. He smiles wide, kissing my forehead. "Thank God, Katniss, I thought you were dead." He sets me on the floor gently in front of me, inspecting my olive green t-shirt and plain black shorts, both stained with vomit. He presses his fingers to my cheeks. "You're burning up, Kat."

"No," I finally whisper, shaking my head tiredly. "No, I am freezing, please." I am shivering so hard, I practically convulse in his arms.

"Katniss, it's a fever." he insists. "lets get you into bed." He scoops me up and begins to carry me to my bed. I feel it coming, I try to squeeze my eyes shut and will it away. I can't, I vomit down the front of him. I can't help it, my head lolls against him like a broken flower

"I'm so sorry." I mutter, angry at myself. He shakes his head as he sets me down softly on my bed. My clothing soaks through my blankets.

"Its okay," he soothes, wiping my hair from my face. He tries to hide it but he cringes when his fingers brush my skin. I can see the worry rising in his face. "I'm going to see Haymitch about a healer." He turns to leave, his hand on my doorknob.

I see flashes of light in front of my face. Stilled-images and clips of movement. I see snapshots and more light, too vivid, too bright. There are mutts, and a lot of them, just past the door. I saw their gleaming, white teeth curved up into a sick smile. Finnick was just there. I spin my head around wildly. They killed Finnick, I can't find him. Panic washes over me in waves. I can't breathe. He was just here. Mutts are just beyond that door. Peeta, oh sweet Peeta, No. I know they killed beautiful Finnick, with his sea green eyes and skin that smelled of the sea.

"No!" I manage to shout with all of my strength "Don't go out there Peeta!" I sob trying with all my might to climb out of the bed. "There are Mutts!" I try to stand but my knees give and I fall with a thud to the floor. "Please, please, please." I beg brokenly. "please, they took Finnick!" I try to make him understand. He looks at me, his expression dripping with sympathy.

"Katniss, calm down." he whispers, leaning to pick me up again. He tries to set me down on the bed. I cling to him with everything I have, all of my strength wraps my arms around him like vices.

"Don't go out there," I plead. "They'll take you from me. If you leave, you'll never come back." I sniffle. He holds me there a long time before trying to stand again.

"You need fever pills." I shake my head vehemently. His face is swimming from my view. I feel as if I am falling away.

"Please," I breathe out, quiet as a whisper. "Please don't leave me."

"It will only be a little while." He promises, as I fall back against my pillow. His words echo against the silence of my house. _Only a little while._

I sleep for what feels like forever. Peeta comes back sometime later with Haymitch in tow. They both stare down at me like I am a piece of meat. I open my eyes slightly to stare back at them stoically.

"Sure she's not dead?" Haymitch asks bluntly.

"She's not dead." Peeta snaps back, clearly exasperated. "She needs a healer." he says flatly, "She's burning."

Haymitch stands still for a few moments, debating, then reaches his clammy fingers out to touch my forehead, while taking in a long drink from his bottle.

"Don't touch me with those dirty fingers." I snap "They smell like geese." Peeta chuckles to himself as Haymitch, startled, jumps back.

"Geeze Girl, you almost made me spit my liquor!" he exclaims indignantly.

"That'd be a shame." I croak hoarsely, my voice barely a whisper. Peeta hands me a glass of cool water, I drink it greedily.

"Good to see you haven't lost your acerbic wit, sweetheart." He turns toward Peeta, glowering at him. "I thought you said she was sick." I begin to cough my water up almost immediately. Haymitch raises his eyebrows, taking another long drink from his bottle.

" What do I do?" Peeta asks brokenly, looking toward his mentor. Haymitch shrugs and hands him his bottle.

"Try that." he muses, with a smug smirk. "Helps all of my ills."

"I doubt this will work." Peeta resigns softly. "Booze doesn't fix everything, Haymitch."

"Says who?" Haymitch quips softly. After a moment of thought he sighs heavily. "Listen boy, there is no healer left in 12."

"Somebody has to come see her," Peeta whispers "They can't just leave her here like this."

"You could try her mother."

"Do you think she'd come?" Peeta asks softly.

"She can send you something maybe." It says everything I had been dreading. All of my fevered memories, gone. I think of my mother's smiles, pressed into my father's chest. I think of her soft pale hair and her freckles that matched Prim. I think of her apron that I hid beneath as a child. I think of the wild strawberries she would turn into preserves, she'd always slip me one secretly as I sat and watched her from beneath the table. Those years before Prim, before starvation, before my father's death. When I was hers and she was mine, anything else was unthinkable.

I remember to count those memories as I do with my memories of Prim and Rue and Cinna and Finnick. From now on, I count my mother among the dead.

I am exhausted and sore. My lips are chapped painfully. I don't have room in my head for all of this sadness and sickness. I shut my eyes tight and its almost like shutting out the world.

"I'll call her mother." Peeta states with clarity. I feel sleep dragging me down. The fever taking hold of me tightly. It doesn't want to let me go, I don't want it to.

"Peeta," I whisper faintly "Peeta, Stay with me." he can't hear my soft calls. I listen to his footfalls as he disappears out my bedroom door.


	4. Chapter 4

I sleep for what feels like days. I awake sometime in the night, my throat parched, covered in dried sweat and vomit. I make an effort to sit up, my head still pounding. Peeta has just walked in, he stands in the doorway with a mug and a bottle of pills in his hand.

"Good morning, sunshine." he smiles halfheartedly. He brings over the mug of tea and sets it in next to me on the bed side table. "I was wondering when you would finally wake up." He hands me the mug of steaming tea. "Drink up." I look down at it tentatively.

"What kind of tea is it." I sniff it and cringe, the smell makes my stomach turn.

"Its something for your stomach, drink it." I take a sip and swallow quickly. After I fight the initial urge to gag, my stomach seems to calm. He hands me the small bottle of pills. "These are for your fever, take two." I do as he instructs and I drink down the last of my tea.

"How did you get the fever pills?" I ask, leaning back against my pillow.

"I called your mother and she sent them on the earliest train." he says tiredly. I feel a pang under my ribs when he says she sent them. I suppose the child in me was disappointed she didn't come herself, Though I knew it would never really happen.

"She says it's more than likely a stomach virus, and you should stay in bed for at least a few days." He sits on the edge of my bed carefully, I can tell he is watching my eyes, gauging a reaction. I am not sure what he wants from me, to be happy, or upset. "How are you feeling now?"

"Still tired, but better, thank you." He smiles warmly, tucks my blankets up around my shoulders. I am just now adjusting to being awake. I smell baking bread, the light in the hallway is glowing softly. I can hear someone walking around downstairs. I look at him quizzically, my eyebrows knitting together. He smiles and reaches his hand out, touching mine softly with the pad of his index finger. "Haymitch has been keeping me company." I nod slowly. I am not sure what to do next. Peeta seems enthralled by the skin on my hand, brushing soft circles on my scarred skin. I don't move to stop him but I do stiffen slightly. He straightens after a moment and smiles. "I'll bring you some water." He stands, leaning over me, he presses his lips into my forehead. My skin is on fire where he has touched me, it freezes me in place as he turns to leave.

I stay in bed for three days, sleeping mostly, but the rest of my time is eaten by Peeta. He brings me sweet rolls and broth. He reads out of musty books and even paints. I watch him carefully as his brush strokes soft pinks, sea greens and vivid yellows into a sunset over an ocean. Sometimes he talks to me about what he is painting, mostly he is quiet, his eyes locked on some distant place. I take this time to really look at him, without having to worry about being caught. I stare at his pale skin, thick lines of jagged pink licking their way up his neck. His eyes are bright, and dark at the same time, if that is even possible. Still bright blue but there is a deeper dark hiding behind them, making them the color of night some times.

After the third day I insist on dressing. I come downstairs early in the morning. The dark of night is just starting to fade into a buttery light. I stop short on the second stair when I notice Peeta, curled under a light afghan on the couch, he uses his arm for a pillow. I stop and wonder if everyone looks younger when they sleep. The creases in his face are gone, if it weren't for his scars I would swear the war and rebellion never happened. I make my way down the stairs softly, I avoid a floorboard that usually squeaks. I kneel down next to the couch and hold my breath. I have yet to see him with his shirt off since we've been back in twelve. I reach my hand out to touch him. I trace out a scar on his chest.

I watch him sleep for a long time, my lips pressed to my knee. After a while he stirs, his blue eyes searching around suspiciously. When they finally land on me I tilt my head up so my chin is resting against my kneecap, I offer him a half smile. The storm in his eyes seems to calm. "I see you've taken to sleeping on my couch."

He sits up slowly, running his hand through his hair. He yawns widely and then smiles somewhat sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, I just wanted to be here in case you needed anything." I nod, standing over him slowly.

We look at each other for a long time. He looks like there is something more that he wants to say. I wait patiently but it seems like his voice is stuck in his throat so I turn to walk away. "Where are you going?" He asks somewhat sadly.

"I was thinking about another walk into town." I am shrugging into my jacket as he slips a shirt on over his head. I miss those scars already.

"Oh," is all he says, his eyes seem stuck to the floor shyly. I open the door, ready to step out into the heat. Buttercup lays sunning himself on the porch, I can't help but smile down at the ugly cat. After a beat, there is a cool breeze. I turn to Peeta quickly.

"Would you, um," I stutter out pathetically, "Would you like to come with me?" His face immediately brightens. He shoves on the rest of his clothes and is ready to leave in moments. We meet in the doorway awkwardly, his hair still slightly mussed from sleep. I smile up at him, feeling his eyes on me. Stuffed together in the door frame we are closer than we have been since the night we held hands. How long ago was that? Only a few days? I can't stop staring at his eyelashes for the life of me. He is leaning into me, almost as if he his gravitating toward me unconsciously. I swallow hard, his forehead resting against mine.

I feel the anxiety coming on. His heat radiates through me, right down to my bones. Part of me wants to turn and run, I could be at the top of the large oak in my yard in moments. Another part of me however, wants to intertwine my fingers with his shirt and pull him toward me, take that warmth for my own and taste it again. We are frozen like this, until I clear my throat uncomfortably and turn away without a word. He closes his eyes and sighs.

We walk in comfortable silence, taking in the rubble with awe. In the sunlight of summer, everything seems more real, more tangible. All of the effects of the war weighing heavily in my chest. I catch Thom near the fence and wave softly. He shields his eyes from the sun with his hands. He doesn't wave, he just looks down, his eyes heavy with an emotion that echoes sympathy.

People gawk at me again, stopping to stare at Peeta and I. I keep my head down and try to hold my breath and count. People are clearing out bricks and ash. I notice a pregnant woman I have never seen before resting in the shade of a tree. Her hand resting on his large belly. Her back leaning against the rough bark. I have to wonder what kind of a future her child will have now. The games are gone, at least for now. That child is no longer doomed to be reaped. It won't have to work in the darkness of the mines. Its life has a tinge of hope, it could go anywhere it wants. I can't help but think, _was it worth it? _

Peeta and I reach the fence. Old habits die hard and I listen for the familiar humming. It isn't there, of course it isn't there. I hear his sharp intake of air as he stares out over the churned earth. They are bringing fresh bones there, even now. Peeta fists clench until his knuckles are white. His eyes are closed by the sun. His jaw is tight. After a moment he works on calming himself, his breathing slowly evens. We stare out at the wheelbarrows being brought out for what feels like hours.

"Do you think they are there, Katniss?" I reach out for him with out meeting his eyes. I can't, I am too afraid of crying. "Do you think those are their bones?" I clamp his hand in mine.

I try to think of a sweet lie to tell him. Seeing his eyes so far away and broken is too much. I lean my head into his collarbone, and wrap my arm around his waist. He flinches against my touch. "Maybe." I say softly, leaning my face into his chest. His hand comes up and touches my hair carefully.

He turns after a few minutes, still grasping my hand tightly in his. He tries to pull me towards town, but I pull him to a stop. "Peeta, let's go to the woods." I suddenly have butterflies in the pit of my stomach. He turns and looks out to the vastness beyond the fence, beyond the meadow. He doesn't say anything, just nods and lets me lead him passed the destruction and bodies.

We are standing among the trees. Peeta looks out of place, leaning against a tree trunk. I can't remember the last time I was out here. The air smells sweet and warm with sunshine and pine. The ground is soft with pine needles and dead leaves. "Come on!" I shout with a smile, pulling him forward. I find my hollowed out log. I reach in and find my bow right where I left it. I pull out my arrows and sling them over my shoulder.

"Right where you left it, Miss Everdeen?" Peeta asks with a small amount of humor in his voice.

"Come on!" I shout again, "I have something to show you!" about halfway to the lake I am feeling frustrated. He snaps a branch beneath his foot, it echoes through the forest.

"Do you like having squirrel for dinner?" I snap, half joking, half irritated. He glowers at me and my sullen expression. Suddenly he stops short, grabbing my wrist.

"Says the girl that has two legs." he teases with a smirk. I am turning away when he speaks up. "Katniss, look at that." I follow his eyes through the dense forest. A doe drinks from a small pool of water. I pull a arrow from my quiver. I pull my bow string tight. I watch the small doe carefully, waiting for my shot. I think venison would make a pretty good dinner. Greasy Sae would be happy. "Katniss, Don't." Peeta pulls on my shoulder after a moment. I turn to look at him, but his eyes are fixed on the deer, something approaching awe in his voice. I can't help but smile softly.

"You sound like Prim." I say, as soon as I do I freeze. Peeta sees it in my eyes and steps forward, hugging me tight to him. A branch snaps and the doe flees, gone as quickly as she appeared.

"You know, it's okay to say her name." he whispers. I feel tears welling in my eyes. I turn away from him, embarrassed.

"Come on." I pull him forward by his hand, not saying anything until we reach the lake. We come out as the sun is high in the sky. The trees breaking into a small meadow before meeting the cool, green water.

"I used to come here with my father." I say as I climb up a small rock. He looks out at the water calmly. The meadow is bursting with color, honeysuckle, daffodils, snapdragons and daisies are all blooming. Silently, he watches me as I begin to pick flowers handing the small bouquet to him.

He walks over to the water and pulls off his boots and socks, scrunching the hem of his pants up until they rest mid-calf. I watch him dip his feet into the water. I slowly walk over and join him. He watches as I take off my boots and socks and set my feet in the cool water.

"Katniss," He stares down at the flowers in his hand, touching the frail petal of a daffodil. "What are we?" I don't answer right away, I just breathe in and out, trying to find an appropriate answer for him. What would he want to hear? I could tell him that I love him. It wouldn't be a lie, but aren't we past that? I mean, look at us, we are far too damaged to ever make sense of our love. The war saw to that. I could say we are friends, but that seems like I am skirting around him, just trying to appease him.

"I don't like it when you ask me things like that." I answer honestly, my spit feeling thick at the back of my throat. He won't meet my eyes he just watches the water lap around his ankles.

"Why?" he asks, and there is no malice behind it, no bite of anger. At this moment as I look at him, for the first time I realize how confused and alone he must be. Living among his own families ghosts, and trying to help me with mine. However, he is still just an eighteen year old boy.

"Because, I don't know anymore than you, and when you ask me questions like that, it scares me because I am afraid I won't answer right, and you'll leave." He grasps my hand at that.

"I won't leave." he promises, with a small shake of his head. He looks at me and smiles sadly. He stands and holds out his hand to help me to my feet. I stare out at the lake wistfully before we head back into the forest.

We reach the district and try not to look out at the destruction of the meadow. We don't have to slip under the fence anymore, someone took a heavy rock and weighed down some of the weaker wires. At the fence Peeta stops, not sure what to do. I can see him warring with himself, thinking something that he doesn't dare say. After a moment he looks at me, his eyes filled with tears.

"Do you think they felt any pain?" I grab his face between my palms as tears pour silently down his face. I think about kissing him, but instead I hold him against me.

"It'll be okay Peeta." I whisper, after a moment the tears slow. He wipes them away with the flat of his palms, this action reminds me of a small child. He looks at the flowers I handed to him at the lake. He turns and walks to the fence, and sets them gingerly at the base. "You know, for years I hated my mother." He turned to look at me, with a soft expression on his face. "She picked me out you know, my brothers never got it as bad as I did." He clears his throat, "My father was," he let his voice trail off.

"When Prim was little, my mom sent me to get thread, because she needed to mend my fathers socks, and Prim begged to come with me." I am lost in my thoughts. "So I brought her with me, and it was pouring outside, she was maybe 5." I watch the flowers sway gently in the wind. "I lost her." the words tumble out in a rush. "I lost her in the fabric shop, and I remember thinking that I'd never get my sweet Primrose back." one tear catches in my eyelashes, he reaches out to wipe it away. "Turns out she was at the bakery, looking at your fathers cakes." I giggle at that last part.

Peeta smiles softly, his fingers tracing the scars on my neck. My skin burns where he touches me. After a moment I grab his hand and we turn to head back to the house, leaving the flowers as tribute to the dead.

When we arrive at my house, I pace around quietly as Peeta begins preparing dinner. My house seems too vast, too quiet. I ache for the woods again. I find myself upstairs. I stand in the silence at her door for a long time. I listen to the dull click as I turn the doorknob. I stare inside at the dust motes, disturbed and hanging in the fading sunlight. I finally step inside and take in her smell, all around me. I want to sob and fight and fall asleep all at the same time.

I open her closet where three dresses hang and two pairs of shoes are lined neatly. A few boxes tucked in the back. Her bed is still neatly made, an indent on her pillow. Her nightstand still holds a couple school books, her lamp and a glass of water, half full. There is a music box sitting on her window seal. I open it and it tinkles softly. I remember that our father had saved for months to get this for her sixth birthday.

I am seeing red, I am so angry. I want to scream, I want to fight. This war was not worth this! She was just a child! I grab at the curtains and rip them down. Something inside of me rejoices at the destruction. I knock her school books to the ground. I knot her music box in my fist, I am prepared to throw it, when Peeta appears in the doorway. My knees give and I sink to the floor.

My fingernails are scraping my face. I pull my hair, pain is better than this anger welling up inside of me, threatening to spill over and consume everything in its path. Peeta watches me, leaned up against the doorframe.

"Feel better now?" he asks, moving to pick up the books from the floor.

"No." I spit, anger slowly leaving me. It leaves me exhausted. Peeta leans down and touches my shoulder. I feel it on the edge of my tounge, the words that have been weighing on me since she died.

"I killed her Peeta, Prim is dead because of me." He leans in to hug me. I smell bread and sunshine and the crispness of the woods, the heavy scent of lakewater.

"That wasn't you, that was the rebels, the Capitol, the war... not you."

I shake my head vehemently, Anger filling me again. "She never would have been there if it wasn't for me." He holds me tighter, his hand intertwining with my hair. "I killed her, I killed my little sister." I push him back so he can look into my eyes. "Say it!" I demand, my voice firm. "Say it! Say I killed her!" I am screaming now. "I killed her and I killed your family! All the people of twelve, Madge, Cinna, Everyone is dead because of me!" He's fighting against me, trying to tighten his grip against me.

"Katniss stop!" he shouts as I disolve into tears. "Its okay," he soothes. I push him away and run toward my room, tripping on the rug. I slam into my door, struggling to see the doorknob through my tears, I rip down my curtains, smash vases, I knock books from the shelves. I can see Peeta in the room across the hall, just sitting with his head in his hands. I open the closet and grab a fistful of material intending to rip it from its hanger. The feeling of silk stops me in my tracks.

My sobs slow into a soft hiccup. I enclose myself into the closet slowly. Grabbing dresses and soft pant suits from their silk lined hangers. I make myself a soft bed and lie down, curling into myself. After a few moments there is a soft knock. "Kat?" Peeta asks, his voice hoarse. "Katniss, please, let me in."

I shut my eyes tight, and fall asleep without answering him. I can't help thinking that maybe the entire world has fallen away.


	5. Chapter 5

I stare at the grain of the wood in my closet door. I hear movement around, I hear hushed voices, Greasy Sae is here, so is her granddaughter. I have no energy for them, I don't move from my bed on the floor. Sometime, Peeta opens the door and tries to coax me out. I don't respond to his pleads or puppy dog looks. All I think of is Prim, the constellation of freckles that sprayed across the bridge of her nose. I think of her wide blue eyes. I feel like if I focus hard enough on the tiniest of details, the very will of it will bring her back, she will appear in front of me and smile.

After a while Peeta stops talking to me. He just sits with his head resting against the door frame. I cover my face with a black silk garment and pretend to be asleep. After a very long time I hear Peeta begin to crawl towards me. I shut my eyes tighter, too tired to talk. He pulls the soft fabric back just a little, my neck and cheek are exposed. He leans forward and touches my cheek, just a ghost of his skin touches me but it sends goosebumps all over. I shiver just slightly and he catches it. He grabs a sweater from a hanger and drapes it over me. He is staring at me and I can feel it, I squeeze my eyes as tight as they will go. I struggle to keep my breathing even. He leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek. I have to fight myself to keep from jerking away.

His lips were soft and warm, and it left my cheek tingling. He runs his hand down my arm before shimmying out of the closet and shutting the door until there was just a sliver of light shining through. I open my eyes and let out a long breath, it comes out as a soft sob. I cover my mouth tightly with the palm of my hand, suppressing a scream.

I push myself farther back into the closet, balling myself tighter. I try to remember more of Prim, but Peeta's kiss is still burning my cheek. I am slightly angry with him. How come he has to come in here when I am just trying to live and survive in my sadness? Why does he have to bring feeling into my numbness? At the same time I yearn for his closeness. I want to bury my nose in his chest and breathe in the sugar, dill and flour that radiates from him.

I fall asleep to the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. I try to keep my head above the heavy water of sleep. I fall asleep thinking a few hours of peace is never an easy thing to find.

_There are mutt is on my heels, I feel its hot breath against my ankles, I don't dare turn around. I can't stop running, if I do I am dead. There is a dead oak tree not too far, If I could make it there I could tree myself and get to my bow. Its branches loom dark against the early morning fog. I push myself farther though my lungs ache and my ribs protest. My legs are shaking from exertion. _

_ The mutt is ravenous, I can hear it salivating behind me. Just a few more feet, and I will be at the tree. I push off the ground and hear a snapping of jaws behind me. My hands find purchase against the bark and I scramble up the tree, letting out a groan as my arms protest. I am tired and aching. I pull a arrow from my quiver and string my bow. I turn to confront my enemy. I am staring into Peeta's eyes, except they are black as midnight. He gazes at me stoically, his face blank. His eyes are so empty I can fall right into them. He looks at me for a long time, eyes boring into mine. I swear I can see hell._

_ "You have to kill him." I voice states softly to my right. I turn my arrow sharply. Rue stares back at me quietly. I lower my bow. " He's a Mutt, you have to kill him." she repeats. Her voice holds no joy in this. We both look back at him in unison. He is right where I left him, his dark eyes staring up at me with venom seething from every one of his pores. He reminds me of a circling wolf. _

_ "I can't." I say brokenly, my voice cracking. I can't help but think of Peeta and all of his soft comfort. The boy is still there, I can feel it. She shakes her head solomnly. Its beginning to rain softly, dampening everything. I feel my hair being weighted down by water. "Peeta is all I have." _

_ He smiles at the sound of his name. It isn't a joyful expression, its a threat. He is baring his teeth, showing me each pointed fang. He growls deep in his throat. "You lost your chance." Rue whispers, her voice far away. I turn back to her, but she is gone. In her place hangs a noose. The Hanging Tree. I understand now, I stand up. The branch bows at my weight. I wrap the noose around my neck, the heaviness of it surprising. Peeta growls again, his teeth clamping together with a loud snap. I swallow hard and take in one last ragged breath._

_ I stare into his eyes, blank and vicious. "Peeta?" I whisper. "Peeta I love you." the branch snaps beneath me and I can't help but shriek with fear. I feel the rope tightening against my neck. Peeta just smiles up as I struggle against the rope._

I am sweating when I awaken. I clutch my throat as I gulp in air. I sit up but don't dare move from my makeshift bed. I hear Peeta's steps walking toward my closet and I make myself as small as I can. He pushes the door a little wider. His shirt is stripped off, and his hair is mussed. I must have awoken him from his sleep on the couch.

"Katniss, it's okay." he soothes, reaching for me. I cringe backward, the dream still fresh in my mind. He lets out an exasperated sigh, but sinks to his knees in front of the closet. "Bad dream?" he asks me softly. I don't respond but stare at him suspiciously. He catches my mood and slides back a little. "Was it me?" He asked "Are you afraid of me?" I still don't answer, I am only still.

"Kat, I'm not going to hurt you." I want to crawl out of here and tuck myself into him. I can't though I'm too tired. I'm tired of conflicting emotions and whispered promises in the dark. I mean, who are we kidding? We can't possible make this work between a girl and her nightmares and a boy and his poisoned mind. I mean, I am pretty sure half of the time he wants to kill me.

I press my chest into my knees and eye him warily. He settles in with a sigh and leans against the door frame. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep, how's that?" he asks, stretching his legs out. I don't say anything but I curl up on my small bed of velvets and silks. I shut my eyes as Peeta does the same. It seems is presence is enough to chase my nightmares away for tonight.

I awaken to birds chirping and soft, cool morning light drifting in. I feel a heaviness in my hand and realize that Peeta's hand is grasped tightly in mine. I am still on my bed, but somehow Peeta has managed to slip his way inside the closet and intertwine his fingers with mine. I allow it for a few moments, relishing his warmth and smell and nearness. Then I gently pry are hands apart and curl back up on my bed in the back of the closet.

I stare at him until he wakes up, I look at his broad shoulders spotted with light colored freckles, and the pale hair that trailed down his stomach. I reached out to touch the soft pink flesh of his scars before he began to stir and my hand shrunk back to my side self consciously.

"Hello," he started timidly. I can't find words to say, so I remain quiet, though I can tell Peeta, who has the patience of a saint, is getting short willed to deal with me. I can see it in his soft blue eyes. Frustration bubbling up to the surface. I curl my face into my knees until I am in a fetal position.

"Katniss, you need to talk to me." he states bluntly. I cover myself up with fabric. "Katniss, please." he begs. He brings his whole body toward me and lifts up my wrist. He inspects the soft sliver of a cut that is beginning to scar, the scab is falling off to reveal the soft pink of new skin. He brings it up to his lips to kiss it. I stay beneath my cover, so he doesn't see the tears forming in my eyes.

"I'll make breakfast." he says after a moment. He drops my wrist and I feel that he is gone. I want to step out of my safety, from these warm covers and out into the light of the morning. I want to rush down the stairs and slam into him, pressing myself into him with everything I have. I want to brush my lips against his and tell him that I love him.

How do I tell him that every morning I wake up and wish I didn't? How do I tell him that after years of reaching out and finding nothing I have learned to reach inside instead? How do I tell him that every morning I wake up more scared than I was the day before? That Prim's voice is fading from my mind. That I can't remember how her voice lilted along with mine when we sang together. How do I tell him that I wake up everyday and expect him to be gone, because sooner or later everyone leaves. It's just a matter of when.

He comes back with eggs and toast and bacon. He sets some water next to the plate and then sits cross legged, waiting for me to move. "Come on Kat, you need to eat." He orders gruffly, I sit up but don't move toward the food, I just stare at it.

"Come on, Kat." He rubs his temples like he's warding off a headache. "Eat your food, please." I give him a slight shake of the head, I am honestly trying but chewing sounds like so much effort, I just can't afford that much energy. "Eat." he says again, Clearly miffed with me. I jut my bottom jaw out stubbornly and push the plate away. He pulls his hair slightly, trying to hide it by running his hand through his hair. "Come on Kat, Prim would want you to eat." He states quietly, he is clearly trying to elicit some sort of response from me, anything. I can see the desperate look in his eyes.

"Prim doesn't want anything, Peeta." I say flatly, my voice monotone. "Prim is dead." I finish. I turn over and lay back down on my bed and wait for him to leave. Sure enough a few moments later I hear him turn and walk out. I shut my eyes and hot tears squeeze out. I cry myself out and fall asleep. I roll over at some point and notice that the eggs and toast I never touched has now been replaced by warm rolls and soup. I don't touch that either.

This goes on for two days, Peeta brings me fresh food every few hours. Sometimes he tries to talk to me. Chatting about things I don't really care about. I lay on my dresses and listen halfheartedly, Peeta doesn't try to get me to talk again. Sometimes he just sets down the plate and leaves. I don't blame him when he does.

On the third morning, Peeta brings me breakfast and stands over me. I look up at him, looming over me with annoyance. "Katniss, please get up." I don't say anything, just stare at the wall.

He turns and leaves and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Its been maybe an hour when I hear footfalls in my room.

The smell of booze hits me before he reaches the closet. "Get up." he snaps angrily. Of course Peeta would get Haymitch! I knit my eyebrows together angrily and try to shoot Peeta a look, I can't find him though. "Get up!" he growls louder. He stands there staring at me for a few moments before grabbing my ankle in his hands, I push easily out of his grasp, I stand and run, trying to push past him. He grabs be around the middle and hefts me up in his arms. He carries me toward the bathroom while I beat my fists against his chest and kick. Screaming venomous names and him.

"Come on, girl!" he yells, his breathing stinking of white liquor. "Get it out!"

"I hate you!" I scream in his face, "I fucking hate you!" I am so angry tears spill out. We're in my bathroom now. I look around the darkness, just gaining my bearings when he drops me in the tub. The water is freezing, I gasp and kick as the water sloshes over the side. All of the fight that was in me suddenly goes out and I am left sitting with tears running down my face, staring at Haymitch.

"Feeling any better?" he asks with no edge of sympathy. I shake my head slowly. He reaches for a flask in his pocket, takes a long swig, and screws the cap back on.

"Killing yourself isn't the answer Katniss." He stares me in the eyes flatly.

"I wasn't-"

"Don't give me that shit, sweetheart, you were planning on laying in that closet until you met your maker!" I have to advert my eyes, he isn't wrong. "You've been making the boy crazy you know that!"

"What is it any business of mine if he's going crazy or not! I didn't ask him to stay here and make sure I eat and sleep!" I can't help the anger welling in me.

"Katniss," he says, softly this time. "Be thankful you don't have to ask him."

He slides down the wall until he rests on the floor. We sit in silence, Haymitch slurping from his flask. I shiver in the bathtub.

"Does the booze help?" I ask him idly, he smiles darkly, his teeth yellow and discolored.

"It keeps the nightmares away." He takes another long drink. "That isn't really true," he adds after a moment. "Sometimes it just locks me inside of them. I mean, what more do I deserve? After all those children."

I stare at him for a long time. His greasy hair is plastered down to his head. His ill-fitting suit is covered in odd colored stains and cold bathwater. I never much thought of what it would be like to mentor those children, only to watch them perish one by one.

"Haymitch?" he looks up at me with his gray eyes, the color of used dishwater. "Haymitch, how do survive?" my voice cracks and hot tears spill down my cheeks. Haymitch stands and walks over to me, kneeling until our faces almost touch.

"I'm not to sure sweetheart, I guess we just take it day by day." He kisses the top of my head, in a unusal display of fatherly love.

"Any last advice." He is walking out now, his silhouette dark against the light of my bedroom. He cocks his head to the side as he slows to stop in the doorway.

"Stay alive." With that he's gone.

I pull myself out of the tub limb by limb and peel away my clothes. I slip on a olive green t-shirt and black pants. I brush through my hair and braid it down my back. I climb down the stairs slowly, not looking forward to facing Peeta. He's sitting at the table, his hands knotted in his hair. His elbows press against the table. He stares at the floor despondently. I don't say anything, I just slide the chair across from him out and sit down. He sits up straighter as if I scared him. His face is red and puffy, his eyes swollen. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out so I shut it again. He doesn't say anything either, we both just look at each other, as if it could ever be enough.

"Sometimes you scare me Kat." He says sharply after what could have been minutes or hours.

"I know," I utter, staring at his hands. Black smeared its way across the pale skin of his palm. I look at him quizzically, grabbing his hand with both of mine and examining it closely. "Peeta, what is this?" I ask. He seems almost enamored by my touch. "Is this charcoal?" I ask finally.

He nods and points to the back veranda. I begin to slip through the kitchen to my small back patio. I open the door and stare out. Nothing seems amiss. I turn to see Peeta hasn't moved from the spot I left him. Then I notice it. Thick, dark black lines on the concrete. I take a involuntarily step back. I hear him sob in the dining room, I can't move to comfort him.

The lines make something bigger. I search for it desperately. When I find my face among the lines and smudges I have to gag back a sob. I press my lips into the back of my hand. Its me, curled into a ball on my floor. I stare brokenly at the wall. A complete lack of expression on my face, my eyes are two empty black holes.

I stare at him through the glass door. He looks at me with all of the fear and hope inside of him. I watch as he grabs his things quickly and turns to leave through the front door.

"Peeta wait!" I shriek, not waiting for his answer. I turn on my heels and push my body through a shrub and along the side of the house. I am standing on the front porch before he can reach the front door. We stare at each other some more. I try to swallow my pride and think of something meaningful to say. There is nothing, it just comes out as a broken whisper. "Don't go."

He walks slowly down the steps, his footfalls heavy. He touches my hair lightly with his fingertips. It sends hot electricity all the way to my toes. Slowly he winds his fingers deeper, tangling them with my braid. He pulls me in close to him and crushes his lips against mine. Sparks erupt inside of me. Every part of me is buzzing with life. All too soon, its over. Emptiness and hunger begin to stain my insides again. Peeta gives me a crooked half smile and runs his thumbs down my cheeks. I lean in for another kiss, Peeta obliges, but its the same soft, sweet, innocent kiss as before.

"Are you leaving?" I stammer, cursing myself for sounding like such a fool. He seems to be looking at me wholly. Examining every inch of me.

"Do you want me to leave?" I wrap my hands around his middle and hold him tight, shaking my head into his chest.

"I don't ever want you to leave." I whisper and he nods knowingly.

"Okay then, I'll stay right here with you."


	6. Chapter 6

_The sun has not yet risen. I am lying among the dead leaves and pine needles on the ground. The smell of damp earth fresh in my nose. I rake my fingernails through it and try to stand. I let out a shriek as pain stabs through my right leg. I fall back to the ground with a grunt. I can hear him in the distance, though it's dark I know what face he is wearing, the same when he has an idea in his head he can't get out. A face of dark determination and fierce stubbornness. I try to roll myself over to crawl away, but I feel like a rock stuck in the side of a stream, paralyzed in place while the world moves around me. _

_He circles me like a rabid dog, salivating for a meal. I let out a whimper of fear, it only seems to excite him. A deep growl escapes his throat, barely audible. I can make his silhouette in his darkness, darker than the night. I know I cannot fight his shadow, I brace myself for impact. I tuck my chin to my chest and curl my legs into my stomach. He catches my leg and I let out a wail. _

_His teeth rip into my flesh and hot blood flows from the wound. His teeth glint in the moonlight as red drips from his chin._

_"__Peeta, Peeta baby please." I plead, my throat hoarse. He crawls up towards my face. His body coming uncomfortably close to mine. He is practically laying on top of me. I try not to look into those dead eyes. I try to remind myself this is a mutt, not my sweet Peeta. He grabs my chin roughly, forcing my eyes to meet his._

_"__Shhhh." This Peeta has a deep throaty voice, even his words sound like a growl. "Katniss, I promise, this will only hurt for a moment." I can't take my eyes from the two dark pits where his soft blue eyes once were. The bottom half of his face is stained copper. _

_"__Peeta, Please." I beg, his body pinning me to the ground. He smiles, his teeth sharp fangs. He kisses my neck gently, as a lover might, before sinking his teeth into my throat. I can only gurgle on the hot blood rising in my throat as he laughs darkly._

I awaken in a tangle of sheets grasping at my throat and sucking in big mouthfuls of air. I am surprised that Peeta isn't in bed with me, his arms encircling me protectively. The door is cracked slightly and the hallway light is dimly pouring through the space softly. I yawn and lift myself up from the pillow. I creep out of bed as quietly as I can. I pad down the hall softly and stop on the second stair, I peer between the slates in the railing, squinting against the bright light downstairs.

Peeta is hunched over his journal, feverishly scribbling away on the cheap paper. I can make out his handwriting and a few sketches. I catch the smell of sugar and cinnamon, my stomach involuntarily gurgles and I silently curse it for being so loud. Peeta catches the noise and turns, his eyes meet mine.

"I had a bad dream." I say sheepishly, shrugging my shoulders.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." He apologizes softly, clearing his throat and slyly shutting the journal, shutting his fist around it. "I'm making muffins." he adds, gesturing to the kitchen. I walk down the stairs and take in a deep breath. My stomach growls loudly again and I can't help but giggle softly.

"I noticed." I smile softly, pecking his cheek lightly as I move to sit next to him. Peeta and I have reached a awkward routine. I wake before the sun and grab my bow and jacket.I head out into the cold of morning and try to hunt. Peeta awakens, usually as I am leaving and begins to bake. He makes way more than we eat, so he tries to take it to the workers around the district clearing out rubble. I am back in the afternoon when he is cleaning up. I generally sit on the porch and clean any game I have while Peeta writes in his journal or paints next to me. We sit there, enveloped in comfortable silence. Sometimes Haymitch joins us, most days he doesn't.

Something feels different today however, when I lean in to kiss his cheek he accepts it, but steps to the side almost immediately. He smiles warmly, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which seem clouded over, like he is somewhere far away. I feel frustration shoot up my spine. Its been over two months since my days in the closet, and when we have been close to each other its when we are sleeping. We kiss, but we never move to deepen things. I feel a wave of rejection ripple through me.

"Peeta what's wrong?" I ask softly, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I focus on taking deep breaths in through my nose and releasing them slowly. The pesky tears threatening to spill over recede without him noticing.

"I don't know what you mean." He answers, moving as the timer goes off on the oven. He pulls out the muffins and sets them on the stove to cool. He doesn't meet my eyes, he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the distance between us.

"Yes, you do." I snap, my patience is wearing thin. I am in one of Peeta's shirts, its thin and poor cover for the chill in the night air. Peeta hears the ice in my voice and reaches his fingertips toward my hip, grazing the fabric lightly. I am suddenly aware that my legs are bare, my skin prickling with goosebumps at his touch. I self consciously tug at the hem of the shirt, trying to cover my scarred thighs.

He only gives an crooked, apologetic smile, wrapping his hand tight around my hip bone, he tries to pull me close but I wriggle from his grasp. He reaches for my hand next, trying to pull me into him. I sigh as he succeeds, breathing in the cinnamon on his skin.

"You can't get out of this Peeta." I try weakly to resist him, gently punching my fist into his chest as he lifts me up and sets me on the counter. He picks up a muffin and hands it to me. Its still too hot to eat so I sit there watching him fill up a pot for tea. Soon I am staring at a steaming hot mug.

"You going to hunt today?" he asks absent mindedly as he gathers up measuring cups and mixing bowls and dumps them into the sink.

"Probably," I mutter, my mind far away. I can't stop staring at the leather bound journal sitting on the table. What secrets does it hold? Curiosity eats at me as I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. It seems that Peeta hasn't heard me, he's staring into the darkness beyond the kitchen window. His eyes are cloudy and distant. Fear eats at the bottom of my stomach. His hands are clenched into white fists, blood beginning to bloom where his fingernails dig into his palm.

"Peeta?" I whisper, barely even a noise. His head whips around quickly and he smiles, but something is off. Its a sinister smile, filled with malice. He begins to walk toward me, but in the time it takes him to take one step he shakes his head and his eyes meet mine, clear and blue as always. He smiles, warmly this time. I see the fear in his eyes though, the way he chews on his lip. "Peeta what was that?" I demand, unable to shake the dread that is filling me still.

He doesn't answer me at first. He looks almost physically sick, a green shade in his normally pallid skin. Sweat is beginning to bead on his forehead. "Um nothing, if you'll excuse me Kat, I'm feeling very tired. I'll clean this up later." He gestures toward the dishes in the sink. I nod but my voice seems stuck in my throat. He moves past me in haste, practically running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He slams the bedroom door behind him, the loud noise making me jump in my skin.

I move around the house like a ghost for the next few hours. I pace back and forth softly, floorboards creaking beneath my weight. I hear nothing from upstairs. I stare at his journal some, I can't shake the feeling that the answers to Peeta are in it. I even move to open it, at the last moment I jerk my hand away, not wanting to know the answers.

I finally fall into a restless sleep on the couch. I awake when soft morning light drips through the windows. I sigh and climb the stairs, deciding that a hot shower would help clear my mind. I open the door to the bedroom softly and look around. Peeta is sleeping, his arms wrapped around his head, as if warding off nightmares. His legs are tangled with the bedsheets and blankets. He's thrown the pillows to the ground next to the bed. I sit on the foot of the bed, careful not to disturb him.

He mumbles a bit, tossing over restlessly. I touch his prosthetic that sits next to the bed, thinking of how self conscious he was about taking it off at first, insisting he sleep with it on. How it took a few days but eventually I talked him into letting me see it off. I think about how most of the time I forget he is even damaged. Some mornings we almost seem like a normal couple, walking hand and hand through my yard. How people smile as they walk by when we sit on the porch. Peeta laughing at the scowl I wear as they do.

I can't stop myself when I move towards him, crawling across the knotted sheets until my face is an inch from his. I press my chapped lips against his. He smiles and his eyes flutter open, they look at me with haziness of sleep. I move my lips against his and brush my tongue against his lips. He laughs against my kiss and pushes me back softly.

"Good morning Katniss." he says, still groggy and half awake. I'm twisted against him awkwardly. He stares at me for a long time, as if he can't tear his eyes away from me. I lean into him again, I finally manage to part his lips and fireworks go off in my head as he deepens the kiss. My whole body is screaming at me when he finally comes up for air. I try for another kiss, but he pushes me back.

"What?" I demand, hurt deepening my voice. I crawl off of him and curl my legs into my chest. I play with the corner of the sheet as he sits up and rubs his face with both hands. "I thought this was what you wanted." I state, anger growing in my voice.

"I do." he says calmly, his face wears an expression I can't name. He tries to reach for me, I jerk away dramatically. He sighs like a world weary father. "Katniss," he begins but his voice trails off.

"What?" I demand again, straightening my spine as I stand. I jut my lip into a pout, like a child, I can't seem to help it. He looks like he is going to laugh for a moment, but he clears his expression quickly. We stare at each other for a long time, sizing each other up. The silence between us is unbearable.

"I should shower." Peeta finally whispers and stands, refusing to meet my eyes. He disappears behind the door and I stand there, still angry and spurned. I pull on a pair of pants in a huff.

"I'm going out!" I yell at him as the shower turns on. I slam the door and stomp down the stairs theatrically. I grab my hunting jacket and game bag. I pass by the journal as I head for the door. I stop short, only pausing for a moment before snatching it and slipping it into my bag.

I travel deep into the woods, farther than I have since I had been back in twelve. Its only when I reach a soft bed of leaves nestled against the trunk of a tree that I stop. I bundle myself against the cool of fall and settle in. I stare at the creases in the leather binding for a long time before I actually open it and begin to flip through the pages. Some part of me deep inside crinkles and crumbles with shame, knowing I crossed a line that I will never be able to apologize for.

I open it to the middle and my breath stop short in my throat. I have to swallow several times before I can focus my eyes on his neat boxy handwriting.

_Its like there is two of me. I see her in my dreams as a little girl with her two braids. She holds her fathers hand as he walks her to school. She smiles but her face is turned away from me and I can't see it. I want so much to protect her from the things she is going to see. I want to shield her from all of those horrible nightmares that are going to plague her. I want to hug her and tell her father to take her and Prim and their mother and run while they still can. I want to stop those horrid dreams from creasing her face and making her look years older than she is. The other me smiles at the pain. I want to take her in my arms and hold her up, then crush her windpipe. I want end all of the hurt she will cause me. _

_How do I tell her this? That some nights I wake up and still have that urge to press a pillow to her face? How do I live with myself? I love her. I love her so much... She is the only reason I have to face the day anymore. How do I tell her that I am so scared that one day my control will slip and I will hurt her? _

_I know she feels it in me. She is never too close to me. It's okay, I don't mind. It's better that way._

His handwriting grows more desperate toward the end of that entry. I can tell he was pressing the pencil to the paper hard. Beneath the words is a drawing of me. I am smiling but my eyes are two deep black holes.

I turn the page, the entry is gentler, a better day, I suppose. The drawing is of me, my face upturned to the sky. I sit on my porch my eyes shut tight, soaking in the sunshine. I remember that day, Peeta and I went for a walk, brought some liquor to Haymitch. Peeta made Cheesebuns. It was a good day. Tears are pouring down my face, I soak them up with the cuff of my shirt.

_Katniss and I went for a walk and she smiled at my joke. I didn't realize how much I missed her smile. She might be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen._

That's all it says. I thumb through more of the journal. Peeta talks about his mother, his father, his brothers. He talks about Haymitch and Effie, even Gale. Some are just random memories, some bitter tangents, depending on the day. Some of the days I remember vividly, some I wonder about, like bad days. I struggle to remember them. To remember if his voice had cracked at all, or if his facade of normalcy was too thick that I didn't notice.

_I had a dream that Katniss was killed in the arena, I couldn't save her._

I stay in the woods long after I shut the book, clenching it in my hands and pressing it against my chest. I just stare out at the trees. Its only when dusk descends that I finally rise and make myself head home. I curse myself for leaving so late after the stars are out. Its difficult to move through the bracken and brush in the darkness.

Its well past dark when I reach the old fence. Lights are glowing warmly from the few houses that have occupants. I walk along the familiar roads lazily, in no rush to make it home. I stop short when I see my house. It sits as dark and cold as Haymitch's house. I move softly up the stairs and slip into the living room. I drop my game bag by the door, its heavier than normal and hits the floor with a dull thud, I wince at the noise. I look around carefully. There is no fire roaring in the fireplace. There is soft light from the bedroom.

"Peeta?" I yell toward the stairs. I am taking my jacket off as he answers, I start when I realize he is sitting at the table. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. His lips are pressed into his fists, his knuckles white. I can tell by his face that he is angry.

"What?" he replies coldly. He knows I took the journal, the shame I felt earlier is tripled when I meet his eyes.

"I didn't know that you were here." I state weakly, my voice shaking slightly.

"Where else would I be Katniss?" He snaps back, looking at me sharply.

"Look, I'm sorry." No use prolonging the argument. He laughs frigidly. I try to dig my toe into the wooden floor. "I just needed to know-"

"Know what, Katniss?" Tears bite my eyes, and spill over. My chest is heaving but I make no noise. "Know those horrible things I think!" He stands up and moves toward me. "Know that every time that I touch you I am afraid of hurting you!"

His hands are pressing into my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "I am so scared every day-" He suddenly takes a giant step backward, shaking his head. "No... No... No!" I reach out to him but he pushes away from my grasp. His eyes seem far away, his breathing ragged.

"Peeta." I say flatly. He just shakes his head. His skin is paler than usual. He is scratching his arms with his fingernails. When he looks at me its pure darkness.

"I need to leave." he whispers, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry Kat, I need to leave."

He disappears through the door and leaves me in the darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

Playlist:

Inhuman – Aesthetic Perfection

Sowing Season – Brand New

Old World lies – Brasstronauts

We used to vacation – Cold War Kids

Race the dream – Kill Hannah

Somebody that I used to know – Elliot Smith

9 crimes – Damien Rice

War is Kind- Jakob Dylan

Winter is coming – Radical Face

I am curled into a ball on the kitchen floor. I fight away memories of Hijacked Peeta, coming at me with crazed eyes, His gun raised over his head. I sob openly, snot and tears running down my face. I scream and scream, and when I can't scream anymore I cry again. I am shaking, my whole body trembles with memories. I cry for myself, and for Prim, and for Finnick and Annie, I cry for their newborn child, I cry for my mother, I cry for Haymitch and Cinna and Rue. I feel like my ribs are caving in, one by one.

I slowly climb up and dig in a drawer, when my fingers find the sharp blade of a knife I rip it from its resting place. I hold it to my wrist with trembling fingers. I stare at my already scarred skin for ages, I drag the knife across my wrist in one quick motion. Blood begins to pool, then run down my arm and I feel a scream release from my throat. I pull at my hair and scratch my nails down my face. I cannot contain the pain inside anymore, and it pours out of me like a river into the sea.

Buttercup pads over and mews at me pathetically. I kick at him and he leaps out of the way effortlessly. He finally settles down near me, licking himself quietly. After a few minutes I weep myself out and I sit despondently on the floor, my face puffy and swollen. Finally I resign myself to stand up. I walk into the downstairs bathroom and stare into the mirror at my patchwork skin. My hair that I had just started to even out from the day Prim died. My steel Gray eyes. Everything looks older, so much older than I am. Blood drips from my wrist to the floor in small droplets, I don't move to clean it up or tend to my wound as I did last time. Its deep, I can feel it, but I see no point in stitching it up, so I let it bleed and hope it will drain some of this sadness from me.

I pick of a pair of scissors from a drawer under the sink and begin to chop away at my hair. I don't look at the clumps of hair floating to the floor. I stare at myself in the mirror instead, the hard set determination in my eyes, my lips pressed into a firm line. I stop when my hair is resting just below my shoulders. I look at myself along time, until I am satisfied I am someone else, that a simple haircut could make me something different. "See," I say to the girl in the mirror. "I can change, I can be different." The girl in the mirror wears a look that says she doesn't believe me.

After my outburst I shove on a coat that Cinna had made me made of soft leather, fur lining the inside. I laced my boots and stepped out into the night. The air is crisp but its clear and the moon cast shadows against the houses. I trudge over to Peeta's house, that sits identical to mine, but quiet and lifeless. After I knock twice with no response I step inside carefully, calling Peeta's name.

"Peeta!" I shout as I ascend the stairs, taking small but determined steps. I push his bedroom door open. Everything is neat and in order. His bed is made up and a pair of boots sits neatly on the floor next to his dresser. I am overcome with his loneliness. There are no pictures on the wall, the top of his dresser is bare. His clothes are lined up neatly in his closet. I step into a room and am overcome with color, even in the silver glint of moonlight. This must be the room where he paints. It was my mothers room at my house, this room is covered in canvas. The pictures overwhelm me so much I fall into a huddled position as I take it all in.

The war is all around me, I can smell the smoke and taste the ash. One captures my attention almost immediately. Its Finnick and I, walking together in our uniforms. We both wear matching looks of determination and pain. He holds his trident in his right hand, his green eyes are sharp and angry. Soot and blood smear my face. I touch it gently and snap my hand back as if it had been made of fire. I see a portrait of myself, more recent, as I chop onions. My scars are jagged and angry against my skin, my eyes are hollow. I don't wear a smile, I am focused on the task at hand.

There is another painting of me in my Mockingjay dress, in a swirl of smoke, my arms outstretched. I stand on my tip toes. I am reminded of Rue for a moment. I turn and there is Peeta's mutt, the me he is afraid of. I am drenched in dark colors. I wear a look of malice, my lips pulled around my teeth unnaturally. My eyes are a deep, smoldering charcoal. My fingers are curved into claws.

I hear the sound in my throat, the unreal gasping, before I realize its me.

I feel the knots in my stomach tightening. I wrap my hands around my ears protectively, drowning out the memories of Finnick's screams, of his memories washing over me. I remember the look on Rue's face as she died. The way Haymitch reached for me as I dissolved into tears when we filmed the propos, When Peeta was still in Snow's clutch. I try desperately to hold onto myself as each painting I see brings me closer to falling apart completely. I see Annie painted in a similar position that I am in, Finnick whispers in her ear, his eyes filled with only her.

The image is enough to bring me up for air. I stand and take slow deep breaths, I move to the next room, shutting this door behind me tightly. I move on, stepping out of the stale air into the cold. I shout Peeta's name as I move through town. I trip over bricks and ash as I become more frantic to find him. All I hear is the absence of his voice and a dog barking in the far distance. A few people open their doors and look at me as I wander through the cold, screaming his name. Most people quietly close their doors after a moment, a few keep their gaze on me until I disappear from view.

I am standing in the rubble of what used to be his families bakery. All that stands now is one wall where the fireplace once stood. I sit there for a while, drawing in the ash with a stick, sitting on a cinder block. I wait there a long time, shouting his name every once and awhile. Soon the sun starts to come up. I sigh and start for home, kicking my toes into the dirt. I had left a message for him in the dirt and ash, in case he did end up here. _Come home._

My fingers are frozen when I reach my door, but I have one more place to check. I don't bother knocking on his door and barge into the foul air. Haymitch is awake, but barely, slumped over in a chair staring at a dying fire. His fingers are loosely wrapped around a dirty bottle. His eyes are barely slits.

"Haymitch," I start, shaking his arm. "Haymitch?" It takes him a few moments longer than a normal person, but finally he turns to me and smiles slyly.

"Hey sweetheart, you screaming half the night kept me awake." he remembers the bottle in his grasp and lifts it to his lips.

"Sorry." I mumble and he cracks another half smile. "Haymitch, have you seen Peeta?" I ask, my voice catching slightly at his name.

"Isn't he with you?" I shake my head and he cocks his head to the side. "What, lover's spat?" I let out a sarcastic smile and shake my head again.

"I am a horrible person." I state to the floorboards, fighting the thickness in my throat.

"No, you aren't Katniss." Haymitch says setting down his drink. "you're just trying to survive, like the rest of this. Whatever happened, he'll come home when he is ready, you'll apologize and move on. Everything will be okay, you'll see."

"I don't think so, not this time." My voice is gruff with tears. "I really screwed up." I whisper softly. Haymitch hands me the bottle in his hand, and I take it with shaking fingers. I lift it to my lips and take a long drink, it burns but goes down easy. I take another swig before letting it rest between my thighs.

We sit in comfortable silence, I take a sip from the bottle every once and a while. Haymitch pulls out another and hands it to me when I have finished off the first.

"My girls name was Jessamine ." He says into the early light of morning. "She was a year younger than me and had really long, black hair. She had a real pretty little freckle on her face right here." he points to his just below his right cheekbone, his eyes far away in memory. "Her eyes were the color of Jade, she was so bright, she eclipsed everyone else in her wake." he is quiet for a long time, I don't dare speak. "She was dead a week after I came back from my games, they just took her, I don't know where, they took her, tortured her probably, and killed her."

"Haymitch, I-" the liquor is hot in my chest and tears pour down my face. I take another drink before I say something stupid.

"I think the worst part is not knowing, I have no idea if she called out my name or was scared-" his voice cuts off and his bottom lip trembles slightly. "If she saw me today, she wouldn't recognize me."

I stumble back to my house, my hand shielding my eyes from the sunshine. The alcohol went to my head quickly and my world is tipsy. I fall into my door and crawl to the couch, my stomach wrenching.

I fight sleep with all of my strength, holding my eyes open desperately. I call out Peeta's name a couple of times, on the off chance he might hear me. There is no other noise in the house. For the first time since he came back, I feel truly alone.

_"__Finnick?" I am surprised at how vivid his eyes are in the sunlight. He sits next to me, our shoulders touching lightly. I feel light headed and giddy at the sight of him, whole and alive next to me. I can help but let out a delighted giggle. He knots a rope in his hands, looking out into the distance. I smell the sea on his skin, in his hair. When I turn to look out with him I am surprised, There is no sea stretching as far as the eye can see. It is my woods, heavy with fog. The pine trees are hanging with snow. Everything for miles is glistening white._

_"__Katniss look." he laughs as he holds up his knot for me to inspect. I can't help but touch his face._

_"__I can't believe it's really you." I shake my head with awe. He laughs again, a deep throaty sound._

_"__Why not?" He works out the knot he was showing me and begins another. _

_"__Finnick, I'm so tired." I whisper, "and scared." I add with a shaky voice. _

_"__It will be okay." he reassures me with a warm smile. _

_"__I am so sorry Finnick." _

_"__Its alright Kat, Everything is warm and soft here. I am okay." He holds up the next knot to show me with a small smile. "Katniss, The dead don't feel anything." _

_"__Everything is so violent and bright." I cry out, my breath hot against the cold morning air. "This must be hell."_

_"__Forgive yourself Katniss, it will make things a lot easier."_

When I awaken its almost dark, my dream of Finnick stays with me a long time. My head aches and my stomach flip flops. I drink a glass of water and crawl into my bed. My dreams aren't as peaceful. I dream of a girl with long, dark hair and a freckle on her cheek screaming Haymitch's name into a deep abyss. After what seems like forever she falls into the darkness and doesn't return.

I can't find Peeta for almost a week. I sit at what used to be his family's bakery everyday. When I come home I try to keep busy, cleaning and dusting and folding. I visit Haymitch and bring him a plate of food. On the third day I start a fire in his hearth and scrub his dishes. I clean the garbage from his floor, while he is passed out on the couch. He is snoring soundly when I make a quiet exit.

After day five I feel like I am losing my mind with worry. I take to walking the streets with a deadpan look in my eyes. I am careful not to look at someone in the face for too long, fearful of what I will find there. Looks of sympathy are almost worse than those of malice. Thom sees me and comes over. I ask him if he had seen Peeta. He shakes his head solemnly. I move on without saying goodbye. I sit at the train station for a while. Watching as more people from twelve come back to the only home they've ever known. Some stare at me in wonder, a few even approach me. I don't ever respond to anyone. I just stare out at the crowd and search for Peeta.

I am returning from Haymitch's on the sixth day, I had just deposited my boots on the floor when movement startles me. Peeta is standing in the kitchen, he goes still as a stone when he sees me. His eyes look weathered, but the same bright blue. His hair is mussed and his shirt is dirty and wrinkled. His face holds deep creases of worry.

"You cut your hair?" he says softly, his voice catching. He looks unsure for a moment. "Real?" he asks me uncertainly.

"Real." I utter, anger at him is growing inside of me. "Where have you been?" I ask my voice on the edge of yelling. "I've been looking everywhere for you." I fight to keep my voice even.

I see his eyes shoot back and forth as he backs away from me. His hand rubs the side of his face roughly, leaving his skin red. I see raw marks from his fingernails on his arms.

"Peeta!" I yelp at the sight of the dried blood on his arms, I remember my own dried blood and shame fills me. I reach for his wrist to examine the wound. He yanks his arm away from me and stares out beyond me, his eyes seeing things far away. "Peeta, let me see." I say softer now, trying to coax him toward me.

He looks at me, distrust in his eyes. He chews on his lips until they're bloodied. "Peeta, come on, its me. Let me see, it might be infected." After a few moments of staring he offers his arm. I lead him to the kitchen and set him down on the floor. I grab a rag and wet it with hot water. I lean in front of him and begin to wipe away the dirt. After a few moments I am satisfied that its not infected. I rub ointment on it and when I finally meet his eyes I offer a smile. "I think you'll live." He stares at me like he doesn't believe me.

He gently brings his fingers up to my hair, fingering a tendril of hair that hangs in my eyes. "I like it when you wear your hair down." he says quietly.

"Its too short to braid." I say self consciously, tucking the strand of hair behind my ear. We stay this way for a few moments, looking at each other. "Come on," I whisper after a few moments. He lets me lead him upstairs without a word.

We fall onto the bed in the dark. He wraps his arms around me carefully , as if I am a porcelain doll and he's is afraid I might break. I rest my head on his shoulder and breath him in. We stay this way a long time, he runs his fingers through my hair while I sit and listen to the steadiness of his heart beating.

"Where were you?" I try again. "I looked for you." I am on the verge of sleep. He presses his lips into my forehead.

"I needed to be away." he said simply, wrapping his arms around me tighter.

"Tell me what it was like." I say, pressing my chin into his chest.

"What being away?" He swallows hard, his eyebrows knitting together uncertainly.

"No, being in the Capitol." he smiles nervously, he has my full attention now.

"I don't want to talk about it." he says softly, and I don't press. I lay my head back onto his shoulder. I am on the cusp of sleep when he leans into my forehead and presses his lips into my hair. "I love you." he says, so quiet it sounds softer than a breath.

I go still, my breathing ragged and uneven. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pretend to be asleep. I know he knows that I am not asleep, but he doesn't say anything else to me, just settles deeper into the blankets. I lay awake for a long time listening to him breathe, fighting the urge to run away. I curl myself tighter into him, relishing the feeling of his breath in my hair. When I am sure he is asleep I lift my head to look at him. He looks so gentle, the child I knew in school. I resist the urge to wake him up, but I brush the hair from his eyes and smile. When I shut my eyes, I wish to dream of good things.

My dream is gentle, if not, peaceful.

_I am sitting on a boat with Peeta, on the green water of the lake. I lean against edge, my fingers drifting through the cold water lazily. I can't keep the smile from my face as watch the ripples spread away from me, growing. _

_"__Peeta," I smile looking up at him and the sunlight glinting in his yellow hair._

_His eyes are miraculously clear and a vivid blue. He doesn't say anything, just smiles back at me._


End file.
